


WIP's

by Kanra_chan



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Blowjobs, Crack, Cute, Fluff, FutureAU, Game Shows, Gay, Hanakai Disease, Izuo - Freeform, Jeopardy, M/M, Sad, Sex, Short, Sickness, Spanking, Violence, dom/sub themes, gay thoughts, gaysex, haha can't catch me gay thoughts, powers, sexcenters, superheroAU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:26:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15817020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanra_chan/pseuds/Kanra_chan
Summary: Just posting a bunch of WIPS here! I'd like to finish a lot of them, and some are nearly done already, but I've lost some faith in myself as a writer so I'm just posting this for ya'll to enjoy and possibly to see if you want the endings.NOTE: These have not been edited at all. All of this was just stream of consciousness writing, so expect typos and weird sentences etc! <3





	1. Keep Your Senes- Chapter one finished

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! <3 Yup, I'm back... kind of? Ugh okay okay I know so many things need updates. I WANT to update them, I really do, I just... can't. I've been so busy lately for starters, getting back into my art so hard that that's all I wanna do now... Buuuut on the bright side I have started on the next chapter for Cliché Is The Flavor of the Day and have plans for Nooses around necks! Maybe smut? We'll see ;) <3 
> 
> I hope you enjoy these. First up, we have the story I am most proud of so far- Keep your Senses, a superhero Au <3

He always knows when he’s getting sick. 

The first day, before he’s actually sick, It starts with a craving for juice and being constantly, mildly thirsty. Along with that, he finds himself acting subdued and having strange dreams. The night brings an ache in his head and a chill in his bones. 

And then, as expected, he awakens the next morning slumped on the couch, feeling miserable. Of course this is a distinct sickness, bad as he’s only known once before. He’s surprisngly lucky.

“And across the globe, a surprising number of teenagers are going missing!” The news drones on annoyingly, filled with mockly concerned faces. “With no apparent cause, teens are disappearing across the country, and so far very few have been found. What could be cause this disturbing trend, Matsumono-san?” The woman turns to her cohost, and he looks at the camera with a strained frown. 

“We’re not sure, Yukimura-san… Some are suggesting this is a dangerous new trend of some sort, while others suspect the rise of cults or , even worse, gangs.” He shuffles papers at their fancy desk, nodding at the camera. “Keep an eye on your teens, parents.”

“Well that’s all the time we have for now-” Izaya tunes them out from here, noting the sound of little footsteps quietly sneaking down the stairs. He closes his eyes and lets his head loll back just as his little sisters appear, pretending to be asleep. He’ll just let them get what they want from the kitchen, he doesn’t have the energy to be bothered trying to send them back to bed. 

Faintly he picks up hushed whispering, but can’t pick up on the words. To his surprise they skip the kitchen and pad closer towards him instead, their whispers clearer the closer they get. 

“-really wrong,” Mairu mumbles to her sister. He can’t see it, but he assumes she nods her head in that stiff way of hers. 

They step close enough to touch, presumably staring at him. He keeps his breaths as even as possible, not allowing his face to pinch when his headache worsens slightly. 

“Should we dig a hole?” That’s Mairu again. Oh, great. What have they broken this time? If their fish are dead he’s not getting them more. He doesn’t need them thinking small animals are so easily discarded, after all. They’re showing enough psychopathic tendencies again. 

...possibly picked up from him. But whatever. 

“Hello!” Chirps the newswoman on TV. “And welcome to the 5am morning news report!” 

“How are things, Yukimura-san?” Asks her cohost cheerily. She looks at the camera seriously. 

“No shovel,” Kururi finally answers her sister. “...we could use our hands?”

“No way!” Mairu doesn’t seem to realize how loud she is, and doesn’t quiet down. “Nii-san’s too big- it’d take forever! How would we get his big fat body to the hole anyway?”

“...dump him in the river,” Kururi suggest, and though he can’t see her, he assume Mairu likes that idea from the pleased little “oh!” he hears. The little shit is probably grinning. 

“It’s been a concerning few weeks, Matsumono-san,” the woman says, and her co-host nods his head in agreement again. His eyes are distant, and Izaya knows he doesn’t actually care.

“If I’m too big to be dragged to the yard, then how would you get me to a river?” The girls squeal as he sits up, eyeing them with tired red eyes. 

“Um,” Mairu thinks carefully, eyebrows drawn and face pinched in a way that most people would find adorable. “We could hire someone to take you there?”

Isn’t it cute how she’s planning out his murder?

“And how would you pay them?” He smiles pleasantly, knowing they don’t buy it from the way Kururi twists her lips. 

“-The rise of these gangs certainly is concerning, Yukimura-san,” The newsman agrees to his co-hosts previous statement with as much sincerity as an insurance man, but with worse acting. Izaya keeps his pleasantly fake smile on, and thinks he would have been a much better actor. 

“With your money,” Kururi answers quickly, and he’s a little proud. 

“Alright. But what if they take the money and run.” He grins, nasty. “What then?”

“You’ll beat ‘em up!” Mauri crows excitedly. “You can get anything from anyone, Nii-san!”

“Ooh, too bad!” He snaps his fingers with a disappointed shake of the head, watching them startle. “You lose. Looks like you’re stuck with my body!”

“What?!” Mairu bristles, and Kururi reaches out to pat her on the shoulder with a chubby little hand. “Nu-uh. I answered right!”

“Nu-uh,” he parrots right back, taking in her glare with glee. “You said I’d beat them up, but I couldn’t in that scenario.”

“But…” she fidgets, looking around like something in the room will give her the right answer. “But you always save us. You have to. You signed a contract.”

His lips quirk despite himself. “Of course. But in your scenario I was dead. I can’t help you if I’m dead, right?” He wonders if he’s maybe been too harsh when she looks more distressed, looking down at her hands like she either doesn’t understand, or doesn’t want to.

“-cross the globe, a surprising number of teens are going missing!” There’s another fake expression of worry that he doesn’t have to look to know is there. Static flickers across the screen, the signal flickering in and out for a few moments. “What no apparent cause, teens are disappearing across the country, and so far very few have been found.”

“What could be the cause of this disturbing trend, Matsumono-san?” Izaya mouths to himself, rolling his eyes as he stands to stretch his back. 

“...are you gonna die?” Mairu looks up at him with big brown eyes the picture of innocence. 

“Probably not. Although I feel like it.” He laughs, stepping away from the battered old couch and towards the kitchen. Sunlight is starting to stream through the gaps in the wooden planks barring their windows, reminding him that he needs to find new “curtains.” Troublesome. 

He sighs as he pulls the last of the juice from the fridge, hearing the pitter patter of feet following him. 

He needs this. He’s sick, his energy is slow, and they need supplies. Sighing more quietly, he reaches up to grab two glasses, splitting the remaining juice between them as evenly as possible. 

“I’m going out,” he says as he sets the glasses before the girls. “I won’t be taking requests today, just the essentials.” He leans back against the sink, head throbbing. 

“Oh!” Mairu slams her half drained glass back down on the table, orange juice sloshing over the sides, wiping her mouth on the back of her palm messily. Kururi hardly blinks as her sister knocks into her chair in her rush to get up, racing upstairs in a hurry. 

“She has too much energy, doesn’t she?” He grins at Kururi, rewarded only with a blank stare. Tch, and to think he gave her his juice. 

“Here!” The other twin comes bounding back down the stairs, waving a piece of paper in the air wildly. She slaps it down on the table proudly. “I made a list.”

He glances at it, pleasantly surprised to find it’s a list of things that are actually essentials. Most of them, anyway. 

“Crayons?” He raises an eyebrow at her, and she shrinks back guiltily. “And hula hoops? What will you two do with those?”

“Hula!”

“Right… I don’t think so.” You’d think toy stores would be relatively safe no matter what, right? Wrong. That’s where all the bondage folks hung out. Usually pretty chill, but some of them were a little too odd. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to mess with them today. 

“They wouldn’t be that hard to get, promise!” She clasps her fists and shakes them in a bad imitation of a cartoon character begging. It looks as ridiculous as it sounds. “Please??” 

“No.” He stuffs the list in his pocket, ignoring her pleas. 

“Fine,” she huffs, eyeing her orange juice. Uh-oh. “I’ll just make my own hula hoops, then.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he warns, but it’s too late. The tangy orange liquid rises from the glass in a shaky coil, weaving around the little girls body in a wide circle. She has a face of careful concentration on, watching the circle intently. It starts to move around her in a circle, slowly gaining speed. 

“Put it back, Mairu,” he commands, but she ignores him, grinning toothily.

She shakes her hips in a crappy attempt to look like she’s hula-hooping, unconcerned when the liquid start moving at dangerous speeds. Kururi wisely slips from her chair and over to Izaya’s side. 

Her grin falters a little when the juice whips itself in a lopsided curve, dangerously close to her head. 

“Mairu!” He glares at her, sighing to himself when she only stares at him stubbornly. The liquid is shrinking, now, closing in on her at wickedly fast speeds. If this keeps up it’ll wind up slicing her neck. Little idiot. 

“Fine,” he says, narrowing his eyes at her. She realizes what he’s going to do a second too late, shrieking as she rushes to cover her eyes. Too bad that’s not what he was going for. 

“Ack!” The liquid breaks around her in a messy splash, falling to the floor in a sticky wet mess. She moves her hands from her eyes to her ears, shrieking louder in a desperate attempt to hear herself. 

“Serves you right,” he mutters, though she can’t hear him. 

“Put it back!” She yells furiously, shaking her head like a dog. “Nii-san, put it back! I can’t hear!”

“That’s what you get for not listening to me,” he says as he looks away from her ears and lets his concentration slip away. His head is pounding painfully, and dammit this is the last thing he needs while he’s sick. 

She glares at him furiously, and he sees her empty glass rising from the table. Oh no she doesn’t. With a yelp her knees buckle, just barely managing to catch the table and stay upright. The glass plops back on the table with a clatter, nearly tipping over.

“N-nooo,” she moans, tongue flopping oddly in her mouth where she can’t feel it. “Stop it!”

“I will when you promise to stop horsing around and wasting your energy.”

“You was- wasting it too!” She glares again, but it’s pinched and twisted wrong. Her fingers are digging into the table with enough pressure that would be painful, if she could feel it. Maybe he should stop before she breaks them.

“I have more energy than you do,” he replies steadily, rolling his eyes. She sighs in relief, slowly letting go of the table and standing straight. “Kururi, you’re the first line of defense today. Mairu, clean the juice up. If it’s still here when I get back, you’ll be in trouble, got it?”

“Yeah… meanie.” She pouts, shuffling off to grab towels. He rolls his eyes, knowing there’ll surely be a sticky spot he’ll need to take care of later. But that’s problems for later; right now, they need supplies. 

He heads out of the house, not bothering with locking the doors. What would be the point? With half the world- and growing everyday- possessing superpowers, why bother? The girls will protect base. It’s in the contract, after all. 

Thunder cracks above him, gathering for the oncoming storm. He just shrug and keeps walking. He’s already sick, after all. He strolls down an alleyway littered with bottles and graffiti. He admires the art as he passes, though one particular phrase makes him pause. 

Keep your senses.

Wow, punctuation and everything! Either that, or those nasty japanese teachers have come again to correct graffiti grammar. He moves on, smiling to himself when he senses eyes on him. Oh my, who has come to play today? 

“Izaya-kun,” someone growls. He turns to face Shizuo with a wide grin, not letting his headache show. 

“Shizu-chan! What a pleasant surprise,” he coos. “What brings you to my neck of the woods, hmm?”

“Oh, I think you know...” Shizuo grins wickedly, rolling his neck slowly. It cracks across the air, a cheap imitation tactic. 

“Humor me.”

“Tch.” He glares, brown eyes dark and menacing. “You put worms in Captain Stone’s shoes yesterday!” (lame prank, may change)

“And he sent you to punish me?” Izaya cackles, ignoring the way Shizuo’s eyes light up. “My my, how flattering! The great Captain Stone- scared of me. Ha!”

“So you admit it!”

“Admit that I’m super scary and intimidating?” A thrill races through him with the way Shizuo scowls.”Yeah, I think I can attest to that.”

“Shut up! Why won’t you just cooperate!” Shizuo grows, stepping towards him. He drags behind him a battered street sign, spray painted across its face with “Suck my ass.”

“I’m not interested in fighting to save the word,” he sighs, not yet retreating. “I’d much rather stand back and watch my lovely humans fester and fight to survive in that deliciously human way of theirs!”

Shizuo snarls, taking another step forward. “If you’d just fucking accept Stone’s proposal, everything would go back to the way it should be! Fucking pest!”

“Hmm… No thanks!” He casts an eye over Shizuo, sighing. “Why don’t you accept it. Monster strength plus a flying rock would make a great team, no?” 

“Fuck you!” Shizuo swings his weapon, headed in a beeline for Izaya’s face. He quickly jumps back before shifting his attention to Shizuo’s eyes, stealing the blondes sight before he can swing again. 

“Arugh!” Shizuo yells, frantically swinging the sign every way he can. Izaya takes off running, glancing behind him periodically to keep Shizuo’s sight tampered down. Without being able to keep constant attention on Shizuo he’s only blinding him in bursts, but that’s not so bad. This way, in Shizuo’s perspective, with his sight coming and going abruptly, it’s even more disorenting. 

He’s not the only one, however, who’s becoming disoriented. Izaya’s heart is pounding hard, sweat trickling down his forehead to his neck and finally his chest, where the collar of his shirt soaks it up. Lightning flashes brilliantly, and Izaya hopes the next bolt hits the brutes stupid sign. 

“IIIZAAAAYYAAA!” Slam! Bang! The sign knocks into alley ways as they run, crumbling brick and denting dumpsters. He picks up speed, though he’s slower than usual. Damn sickness! He’s lucky to have it, of course, but couldn’t it have waited till he could rest? 

Ducking into an abandoned building, he quickly zips a narrow old staircase. The wood beneath him is creaky and unstable, protesting his every step. When Shizuo rushes in he focuses on the brutes ears, rushing up the stairs and out of Shizuo’s sight while keeping him deaf. 

“I’m gonna get you, flea!” Shizuo’s head swivels to and fro, frantically searching for him. Typical of a stupid beast to never look up. At the top of the staircase is a second floor, and he takes a short moment to even out his breathing before moving on. Shizuo’s out of his ight now, so he takes care to be as silent as possible as he explores the second floor, looking for an exit. 

All the windows are barred up-shoot. There’s no way he can pry them off as weak as the oncoming fever is already making him, and even if he could it would be far too noises. He hears a sharp creak behind him, and knows it’s Shizuo. He glances towards the second staircase, but turns away from it, choosing to hide behind the open door he’d come through just as Shizuo steps into the room. 

Shizuo lifts his head, and Izaya concentrates on the brutes nose just as he takes a deep inhale. He’s feeling weaker and weaker by the minute, but thankfully his powers still work, and Shizuo doesn’t smell a thing. Shizuo growls and heads for the stairs, stomping his way up and away from Izaya’s hiding spot. It’s a good thing the brute is too stupid to notice that, not only can he not smell Izaya, but he can’t smell anything. 

Idiot. 

He takes a deep breath and moves out from behind the door, turning tail and rushing down the stairs as fast as he can. Shizuo roars a floor above him, but he doesn’t stop, pushing himself to get down the stairs as fast as possible. He rushes for the buildings exit, sprinting out and out onto the streets. Fat raindrops plop against his head and shoulders, steadily picking up till it’s a full on downpour, soaking him to the bone. 

He can’t hear Shizuo behind him, but panic keeps hm moving anyway. Something in the back of his mind is urging him to run, run, run! Energy surges through his veins like the lightning above him, and he knows it’s started. 

“Shit,” he curses, turning a sharp corner. “Thought I had more time…” 

He needs to get back to the base, back to the twins. He’s sure no one thought to cover the portable generator outside, and if the girls touch it they could get-

His thoughts cut off as he skids another corner, slipping in the mud. He flails, trying desperately to catch himself on something, but he winds up smacking head first into a brick wall. His vision swims, slipping away along with his unconsciousness. His last thought is a prayer that the twins remember to clean up the orange juice.


	2. Keep Your Senses- Start of Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Start of chapter two ^_^ I'm really happy with Keep Your Senses. I had big plans for this. I hope I continue it and ya'll like!

Hello there, and welcome to your helpful and friendly guide to sickness and sinners! =D

Has your child fallen ill recently? ;:( Do you suspect your child is a sinner? 

Well, you’re in luck! X3 I’m Gabriel, and I’m here to teach you the difference between a normal cold, and a sinners illness. 

=D Lets get started!

First- how old is the child? If the child is under the age of 10, then congratulations, your child is probably already safe! However, younger and younger cases of DOTU- Disease Of The Ungodly- are being reported all the time, so there’s still no harm in checking! =D

Second- Does your child have a fever? If so, how high? ;:( 102F (or 38.9c) is usually safe! But anything higher than that is a clear indication of DOTU…

Third- Does your child have unusual bursts of energy?? That’s another clear sign of DOTU. :( 

If all three major signs are present, then, unfortunately, it appears your child is a sinner. 

It is VITAL to bring your child to a DOTU center for treatment. Do NOT attempt to heal, hide, or run away with your child. Ovo You will be prosecuted for hiding a DOTU child!

>:3 I’m Gabriel, and this has been your helpful and friendly guide to sickness and sinners! 

Keep your senses. 

 

His bones were tingling. His skull was pulsing. Down to his core, everything rattled and jangled, knocking listlessly against his bones. Hours upon hours it kept on, driving him mad with the sound and the sensations. He tries to push himself up, but he barely lifts himself an inch before flopping back into the mud, exhausted. 

He slowly gets his bearings. His head throbs, but it isn’t very painful. 

‘Ahh,’ he thinks with a grin. ‘Mental, hmm? I wonder…’ He looks to his left, finding an empty styrofoam cup lying not too far away. He concentrates on it but, alas, nothing happens. Darn. 

‘No telekinesis, then…’ 

Sighing, he tries to think of other mental powers. Someone, a stumbling drunk, passes by the alley and he concentrates on them, hoping to read their mind. Again, nothing happens. 

“Tch…” Izaya frowns to himself. What else was there? Laser vision, perhaps? But, no, then his eyes would be hurting most. He notices movement to his left, and tenses, but when he shifts to sit up, he finds it’s only a little frog. 

Of course when he got his first powers, his ability to steal other people's senses, everything hurt. His eyes, his ears, his head- even his tongue! They always say pain after the fever indicates where your new powers are either how you can use them or where they can be used on others. 

As he lays there in the mud, he tries various other things, and none of it works. He can’t make explosions with his mind. He can’t hear really far away. He doesn’t have X-ray vision. He can’t make objects appear. Nothing!

And as the rain beats down on him, he finds he can’t warm himself up either. The little frog croaks, as if to mock him. 

“I should steal your sense of taste for that,” he mutters. “Then you’d never be able to taste flies ever again.”

“I don’t much care for flies,” she replies. “Beetles are the good stuff.”

…

No. 

Nononono!

NO.

Slowly, he takes a very deep breath, holding it in his lungs. He counts, very very slowly, to ten, then lets it out gradually. 

“I’ve heard… that some beetles taste like chicken. Is that true?” He looks to the little green creature, blinking her beady eyes at him. 

“How should I know?” She makes a croaking noise, akin to a humans laugh. “I eat bugs, not Chickens.” 

“Silly me.” He laughs, and it comes out harsh. She startles, turning to jump away as he laughs. Great. Great! Of all the powers, of ALL the vast and even the undiscovered possibilities he could have gotten… he can communicate with animals. 

Useless. 

Embarrassing! 

“Hey,” he calls, and she pauses. “Is this not at all surprising? Talking to a human?”

“...I am surprised by thousands of things everyday. This is not that special.” She hops out of the alley, splashing through puddles in the mud as she goes. 

He groans, standing up on weak legs. What time is it? Or rather, what day? He remembers the twins and pulls the list from his pocket, unsurprised to find it soaked and the words blurry stains beyond recognition. 

Aah... oh well. 

He stumbles out to the streets, and thankfully no one is around, mutant or otherwise. He needs to get food and water, but he’s exhausted, and he can barely stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments truly fuel me


	3. It figures - Izuo smut WIP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh lord this one is FILTHY
> 
> You couldn't purify this if you soaked it the popes piss
> 
> It's just filthy filthy filthy~ I originally was just gonna keep this to myself buuuut...fuck it~

Set in the distant future, June 13th. 

“Welcome to the Adult Simulation Center. Please state your name sex, and age”

“Heiwajima Shizuo, male, 23.” 

“Thank you. Please stand still while our machines scan you for diseases.” 

He nodded, not that it meant anything to the machine, and sighed. ‘What the fuck am I doing here?’ He questioned himself, silently. 

He glanced around as subtly as he could, though all he could see of the scanning was little flashes of reflected light while the tiny cameras in the wall scanned him. He thought it would be more like in the old spy movies, where the beams of light roamed over your body to scan, but he saw none while standing in his little black box room. 

“Scan complete. No signs of diseases. You may enter, have a wonderful time!” The machine said cheerily, doors sliding open in front of him. He stepped inside, looking around what appeared to be a lobby. It was lit like a classy bar, with leather sofas drinks in most people's hands. 

“Welcome, Heiwajima-san. We are happy to have you.” He jumped, turning to find an AI girl standing beside him. He only knew she was AI because of her voice; all AI kept a semi robotic voice when they were working with the public, unless requested specifically not to. Otherwise, you couldn’t tell the difference between AI and Human. 

“Would you like to mingle with our other guests, or would you like to go to a private room?” She asked, smiling at him as normally as any human. He can see her eyes flashing subtly, taking pictures of him and recording his presence here. 

“Uh, private room please,” he says, taking a glance around at the rich shady assholes laughing and talking. He resists scowling (the AI detect hostility and will react accordingly) and follows her out of the dark lobby. He was here to speak to a guest last week, and Tom had bought him a one session ticket with claims that he needed to relieve some stress. 

Truthfully he really didn’t want to do this, but those tickets cost a lot of money and he has been fairly frustrated lately. Still, this place was an underground joint with likely stolen technology and AI workers. He hopes to god they don’t want him to fuck a robot…

“Please enjoy your stay.” She says, bowing at him. She closes the door behind her, and he takes a look around. It’s a decent sized room, dressed in warm colors and dim lighting to set the mood. It looks like any normal hotel, aside from the giant machine in the corner of the room. 

“Welcome, Heiwajima Shizuo.” The machine greets him, though nothing lights up or even moves on the surface of the shiny black metal rectangle. A faceless robot is standing next to it, and it walks up to him. It holds out a black curved piece with a thin red wire running out the back, making a vague gesture with it’s other hand. ‘Ah hell...I’m gonna fuck a robot, aren’t I?’

“Please attach the scanner to your left ear and we can begin.” He does so, sliding the curved piece over his ear. It makes a small series of beeps, and he can feel the end of it wrapping along the back of his skull. The robot moves to sit on the bed, waiting.

“The device has been activated. Please visualize your ideal sexual partner. Feel free to experiment with looks or body types until you are ready to use the robot.”

“What?” He asks, surprised. “You mean I can just…imagine anyone?” Shizuo fidgets, glancing at the faceless robot. 

“That is correct. Please visualize your ideal sexual partner. Feel free to experiment with looks and or body types until you are ready to use the robot.”

“Even...Vorona?” he asks, picturing the blonde russian beauty in his mind. Before him the robot begins morphs, body twisting till clothes appear and fill out in the same places Vorona's do. A face appears, her face, and blinks at him. 

“Hello, Shizuo-senpai.” She greets, voice a tad huskier than usual and cheeks slightly pink. Her clothes melt away when he pictures her nude, suddenly, and he quickly covers his eyes. 

“No no no!” He gasps, trying in vain not to think about that. Vorona is gorgeous, sure, but that’s his kouhei, he could never do something like that with her. But now that he’s seen it, he’s starting to think about the other people in his life. 

Someone taps his shoulder and he turns around to find Celty. She’s in the usual cat suit and helmet, but the suit is tighter and showing a lot more cleavage than usual. 

[S-Shizuo...I want you.] It’s sexy for sure, but he pushes her away and shakes his head furiously. That’s his best friend, for fucks sake. And she’s married!

“Oh, man up.” Namie hisses, thankfully dressed when he gathers the courage to look up. “Just get your dick hard and do it.” He’s not sure why he’s picturing Izaya’s secretary, but he does like older women… Still, he turns away to picture something else because seeing her makes him want to punch Izaya. 

“Miss me, Shizu-chan?” 

‘Oh no.’

“Oh, yes~” Izaya puurs, stepping closer to grasp his bowtie and yank him down with surprising strength. “You’ve been a very bad boy,” he coos, leaning in to lick the shell of Shizuo’s ear. He looks real-hell, he feels real. That tongue feels just as real as if the sex robot before him were actually the mischievous informant he hates so much. 

“Ooh, don’t lie now,” Izaya says, nipping at his ear lobe sensually. “You don’t hate me. If you did, you wouldn’t have all those dirty fantasies of getting dominated by me…”

“I don’t,” Shizuo gasps, knees shaking and heart pounding. He tries to picture someone else, but when Izaya blows sweetly into his ear, sending him into an aroused, shivering mess, he finds that he just can’t. 

“My, my! I already told you not to lie.” Izaya scolds him with another nip to the ear. “Do you I have to spank you…?”

“Aah, please,” he wheezes, body tingling. His cock is wet and twitching his his slacks, straining against the front of his boxers. Izaya chuckles, deep and amused and so real. He lets go of Shizuo, striding to sit on the edge of the bed. He pats his lap with a smirk.

“Over my lap, Shizu-chan.” He grins, sharp and mischievous. “Time for your punishment.” 

“Seriously?” He fidgets, trying to get angry, to summon the rage so he can destroy this stupid, sexy robot. But he can’t. He’s too excited, his dark, secret fantasies surfacing and calling him towards his desire.

No one would know. That’s how these places work, total confidentiality. The robot- the computer knows- logs into a person’s mind to find their desires and interests, but that information is tightly guarded. 

“Hey,” Izaya says, tone cold and commanding now. “I said get over my lap, Shizuo.” Ooh, fuck. That sends shocks up and down his spine, cock jumping and skin breaking out into goosebumps. 

He does so, walking nervously over to the man on the bed and laying stiffly across his lap. Izaya helps him adjust, so his ass is pushed up and his face is close to the ground. He feels like a child about to be punished, and the thought only excites him more. 

“Now then. Tell me why you’re being punished,” Izaya orders, lightly pressing his hand against Shizuo’s clothed bottom. 

“Because I... I lied to you.” He gulps, breathing hard. “P-please…” he wiggles a little, hot and needy, but can’t get any proper friction with the odd position he’s in, ass raised so that his cock isn’t pressing into Izaya’s thighs like he so desperately wants. 

“Lied about what?” 

“About not having dirty thoughts about you.” He gasps when Izaya starts to pull down his pants, letting them pool around his ankles and leaving him in his boxers. Probably not for long, he think, when Izaya’s fingers hook into the waistband of those too. 

“Does Shizu-chan want to be punished bare-bottom like a naughty little boy?” Izaya asks coyly, pulling at the elastic, then letting go so it slaps against his lower back and makes him jump. 

“Y-yes,” he breathes, flinching when Izaya’s hand suddenly finds its way under his legs to grip his cock painfully. 

“Yes, what?”

“Y-yes, I want you to spank me,” He gasps, trying not to rut against that deliciously painful grip. “I want you to pull down my boxers and punish me, please!” 

“Good boy,” Izaya coos, finally pulling down Shizuo’s boxers. He bites his lip, cheeks burning as he waits for Izaya to deliver punishment. He barely feels the first smack, more like a tap against his ass then anything else. But it makes him squirm, makes him mentally beg for more. 

Smack! The second hit is harder, stinging across his flesh and he just barely bites down a moan. His heart is racing, and he’s biting down on his lip hard enough to taste blood. 

Smack! Izaya spanks him again, then again, and keeps going with a steady rhythm. His cock starts to throb with every blow, hips jolting and toes curling. Oh god, he’s being punished. He’s been so bad…

“You’re a strong man, Shizu-chan,” Izaya drawls, pausing to rub Shizuo’s stinging ass in slow circles. “Stronger than most. You’re tall, too. You’re a big, strong man, and yet here you are, bent over my lap and harder than steel.” He laughs, loud and mocking. Shizuo’s ears burn with humiliation and his cock twitches wildly against his stomach. 

“Iza-aah-!” His voice cuts off into a drawn out moan when Izaya delivers another sharp smack to his already burning ass. 

“Don’t talk unless I ask you a question.”

“Yes,” he groans. He can smell Izaya all around him, that unique scent of metal, matches, and blood mixed with his own sweat and desire clogging his nose. His head spins, back arching to push against the force of Izaya’s hand delivering another ELEPHANT blow. 

He can feel his whole body tensing up now. He’s so close, so close he can’t stand it. He swallows thickly, shaking with desire and need. His ass stings with red handprints proof of his action, along with his quivering cock dripping with strings of syrupy precum. It smears over his stomach and Izaya’s thighs;messy, wet, and lewd in ways that make him burn hotter. 

“Shizu-chan is nothing but a pervert,” Izaya remarks, delivering an especially hard smack. It’s all that’s needed to push Shizuo over the edge, body going taunt and cock jerking as he cums in short, thick white bursts. He groans through it, grinding himself against Izaya’s thighs to work himself through it. 

He’s still shaking when he comes back to himself and realizes what he’s done. 

“I… I didn’t mean-”

“I didn’t say you could cum.” His voice is harsh, ice cold. Shizuo scrambles off his lap, knees weak and cum smeared up his stomach and on Izaya’s pants. His boxers slip off to pool around his ankles, and he gingerly steps out from them. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, staring down at his feet and desperately trying to ignore the way his cock hasn’t softened at all. It’s sticking out from between his legs, slick and twitching every few seconds like it’s ready to go again. 

“Look at that,” Izaya drawls, reaching out to stroke him a few times. “Looks like you’re monstrous here, too. Beastly, even.” Shizuo shivers with the motion, ultra sensitive. Every tug of Izaya’s hand over the sensitive nerves of his cock tingle and burn, caught on the edge of too much sensation and not enough at the same time. 

He tries not to squirm when Izaya starts to scrape the pad of his thumb over Shizuo’s cockhead, moving it around in tortuous, slow circles. His fingers curl into fists as he fights not to pull away from the aganizing stimulation, letting the other do as he pleases. This is just another punishment, and he’s loving every agonizing second. 

Finally Izaya pulls his hand away fro his cock, reaching up instead to tug on Shizuo’s bowtie. He yanks the blonde to his knees, and Shizuo finds himself face to face with the more than obvious bulge in Izaya’s pants. 

“What do you think I want you to do now, Shizu-chan?” He unzips the front of his jeans as he asks this, dick springing out hard and slick. 

“Suck it,” he answers, glancing up at Izaya. The informant is smirking down at him, eyes dark pools of blood. 

“Such what? Be more specific,” he says, pulling his hips away when Shizuo leans forward. 

“Ggh...” he flushes in embarrassment and lust. “Your cock. You want me to s-suck your cock.”

“Good boy!” Izaya praises, stroking a hand through his hair. “Now, open your mouth and I’ll give you your reward.”

He does so eagerly, and Izaya rewards him by shoving his cock in all as deep as it’ll go. It hits the back of his throat, forcing his mouth wide around the length. He can feel his cock leaking again, and reaches down to tug it with a slutty moan around Izaya’s dick. 

He groans when Izaya kicks his hand away and replaces it with his foot. He’s wearing thin black socks, and the fabric feels incredible against him. It takes all he has not to start bucking against the foot pressing down on him.

“If you think you’ll get away with cumming twice without permission, Shizu-chan, you’re wrong.” He leans back against the bed, watching Shizuo with a sadistic smile. “Now, get to it.”

He does, pulling back to run his tongue sloppily over the head of Izaya’s cock. He’s slightly salty, mostly bitter, and altogether intoxicating. Shizuo takes in the smell, musky and manly, as he works his way down. He takes as much as he can in his mouth, stopping just before his gag reflex kicks in and pulling back to repeat the action. 

Izaya’s foot is rubbing firmly over his cock, pressing down in a borderline painful way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments truly fuel me


	4. Summer Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one. Whoa. Ugh it's trash but I do love it so

“I-ZAAAAA-YAAAA-KUUUUNNN! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Shizuo roars, shoes slapping against the pavement just a few feet behind Izaya. It made him laugh harder as he sped up, heart pounding his chest harder with every excited gasp of breath. 

“It’s not my fault you mistook that lady for me,” he calls back, turning the corner sharply and dashing across the street. He’s lucky there was a red light, or he might’ve been flattened like an evil little pancake on the road. 

He goes to take another turn when a stroller suddenly pushes in his path. He locks eyes with the mother, just turning to glance in his direction as they barrel through. He swiftly changes course, taking a risky move as he makes a circle around Shizuo and cuts back across the, thankfully, street with the activated red light. Shizuo manages to change direction and follow him before he tramples the stroller, and secretly Izaya is relieved. 

But, that costs him precious time. 

Metal creaks and protests as Shizuo pulls a street sign from it’s concrete bed, shouting death threats and violence at Izaya. He twists halfway to mock the blond, cocky grin and even cockier remark at the tip of his tongue, when, unfortunately, his ankle twists a little too much, just as Shizuo hurls the sign his way. 

Something goes wrong inside his head (although he’s always been messed up) somehow. His brain is still caught up in the command to check his ankle as the pain appears. The signal that there is danger is pushed back when it should be at the front, a muted shout drowned by the order of his injury. 

He winds up standing mostly still when the sign, flat front instead of the edge, smacks hard into the back of his head and sends him stumbling forward, and then down onto his knees. The world explodes like fireworks before his eyes, popping and distorting. He thinks someone screams, in the distance, but when he opens his eyes he finds ikebukuro has already moved on. 

“Fuck,” Shizuo hisses, coming to crouch down beside him. “How the hell did you survive that?” 

“How am I still conscious…?” He half jokes, bringing a shaky hand up to the back of his head. It comes back dry, no blood, and somehow that feels very wrong. Is he just sweaty? The back of his head feels sticky and wet, but when he checks again, there is still no blood.

“Here,” Shizuo offers his hand, fingers splayed out before him. “We should get you to Shinra.” 

“Feeling guilty, Shizu-chan?” He laughs, taking his hand and letting the brute carefully haul him to his feet. “And here I thought Shizu-chan wouldn’t worry about me.”

“I wouldn’t,” he answers, face very serious. 

“Liar. You’re helping me now, aren’t you?” He laughs. He tries to pull his hand out of Shizuo’s grasp, but the other man doesn’t let go when he tugs. Izaya lets this go with a shrug, only slightly irritated. Mostly he just thinks it’s funny, all the horrified looks they’ll surely get. 

“I would never help you,” Shizuo says again, tugging him down the sidewalk. They’re thankfully not far from Shinra’s, and the streets thankfully aren’t that crowded, despite it being a beautifully warm and sunny day.

“Then what would you call this?” He asks, finding himself distracted by the warmth of the sun. He’d worn his jacket as always, too fond of it to leave it behind even on such a hot day, and finds he almost regrets his decision. 

“I’ll carry it for you, if you want,” Shizuo suddenly offers, dropping his and turning to him. Their eyes meet, burnt honey vs dried blood, and Izaya feels even warmer for it. 

“Aah, that’s…” He’s not sure how to protest, when truthfully he’s swelteringly hot and it would be nice for Shizuo to carry it. But this is his precious jacket, after all, what the the brute accidentally tears a hole in it? Or worse, rips it in half with his monster strength. 

“It’s fine.” Shizuo helps him shrug out of it, draping the jacket carefully over his arm and taking Izaya’s hand again. His fingers are softer than Izaya expects, warm and nice wrapped around his own. 

They’re fairly quiet as they walk, Izaya swinging their hands as they go, happy when the pain in his head and ankle begin to fade. He’s humming to himself, basking in the sun now that it isn’t suffocating him. 

“Are you even hurt?” Shizuo suddenly asks, pausing to shoot him a skeptical look. He’s missing his sunglasses, not on his face or in the breast pocket of his vest, and Izaya thinks he likes the blonde without them. 

“Nope.” He pops the p, slipping his hand out of Shizuo’s and preparing to run from Shizuo’s inevitable fury. But surprisingly the blonde doesn’t attack, just kind of pauses to look at him again. 

“Wanna go get lunch? My treat,” he offers, steady almost smiling. Izaya jokingly looks around, eyes wide, at the people around them as if Shizuo’s asked someone else. The blonde chuckles and adds “Yeah, you, flea.” 

“Hmm,” he hums, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking on his heels, pretending to consider the offer. “Why should I, Shizu-chan? On one hand, it would be having lunch with a guy who wants to kill me… but, then again, that’s nothing new.”

“So? Will you?”

“I don’t know. I should probably consider my other options first,” he teases. 

“What other options?” Shizuo scoffs, though just as playfully as Izaya. 

“Plenty of people would kill for the chance to go on a date with me,” he boasts, cutting himself off when he realizes what he’s said. “Aha...not that I think Shizu-chan was suggesting-”

“I was. I mean, I am. I am asking you on a...a date.” Shizuo rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. His cheeks are very faintly red, eyebrows drawn like he’s mad at himself for his own courage. Izaya feels like a teenager again, caught up in the sudden flush of adoration and excitement. He starts striding forward, hands still clasped behind him and hips swaying to try and use up some of his newfound nervous energy. 

“Aren’t you coming?” he calls, chuckling when he hears Shizuo’s eager footstep hurry to catch up. 

“So-so, uh, where do you wanna go?”

 

They wind up at a run down little diner, and order the biggest, greasiest, most unhealthy burgers on the menu, and challenge each other to see who can finish theirs first. Shizuo is in the lead until he winds up choking, and Izaya is laughing too hard to help him. The waitress ends up himlicking him, before calling the police.

“I can’t believe they thought I poisoned you,” Izaya cackles as they stroll along. They both smell like mustard and grease, something Izaya never thought he’d find so pleasant before.

“I can’t believe you just sat there and laughed while I nearly choked to death!” Shizuo snaps, fingers tightening painfully around Izaya’s for a second. “You’re such an asshole, seriously.”

“Mm, that’s probably another good reason why this won’t work,” Izaya sighs, letting go of Shizuo’s hand. The blonde’s head whips around to stare at him eyes wide and hurt. 

“Another reason?” He asks quietly. “What’s the first?” He asks like he already knows the answer, cringing to himself and leaning away from Izaya. 

“Well, if you choke on a burger like that,” Izaya purrs, following him with his own lean towards Shizuo, “You’re not going to be able to handle swallowing anything bigger…” 

“...I hate you,” Shizuo hisses, and Izaya laughs, dragging him into an alley so they make out like teenagers. 

 

Shizuo picks the next date. 

“The zoo…” Izaya mumbles, trying to sound as unenthusiastic as possible. Shizuo, practically bouncing on his heels in his excitement, takes no notice.

“Yep!” Shizuo chirps, lacing their fingers together and pulling inside. “C’mon, let’s go see those cute little pasta penguins!”

“Pasta...you mean macaroni penguins?” 

“Yeah, those,” he says happily. Izaya sighs, and briefly considers digging his heels in. But Shizuo looks so excited, so determined to see the “pasta penguins” that Izaya can’t refuse his request. He can, however, be curious. 

“Why the penguins?” He inquires, expecting a shrug and some lame answer from the blonde. 

“They, uh...they have, um,” Shizuo stammers, looking awkward again. “They have gay ones…”

“...excuse me?” 

“Gay penguins. This Zoo has ‘em,” Shizuo mutters, dragging him into the exhibit. It’s fairly deserted at the moment, only a few odd people milling around the viewing windows. If the hearts and ribbons decorating the sides of one particular widows weren’t enough, he can tell which window shows the penguins by the fact that there are ads for various yaoi anime hung on the walls. 

It would be cute, if it weren’t so garnish. 

They walk closer, peering in and finding two penguins cuddled close together, content in their own little space. You can’t really tell their gender, of course, but it’s cute, nonetheless. 

“Shizu-chan is so weird,” he mumbles, tightening his grip on Shizuo’s hand. “Thinking of something like this…”

“Hey. I was wondering…” Shizuo mumbles, tightening his grip on Izaya’s hand. “You wanna go with me to a festival? Say, tomorrow night?” 

“Aah,” He chuckles, thinking of yukatas and cotton candy and crowds. “...alright.” He smiles up at Shizuo, who’s started smiling himself. “It’s a date.”

“Great. Let’s go see the Zebras!” Shizuo ends up leading Izaya around by the hand most of the day, cooing over Koalas and marveling at Monkeys. 

At one point the find themselves in a bug exhibit, and one of the handlers let’s Izaya hold a tarantula. 

“Look how cute Shizu-chan!” Izaya coos, holding it out happily. “Wanna hold it? Here you go.”

“No. No! No!” Shizuo gasps over Izaya’s laughter, as the terrified handler tries to get her tarantula off his head. “IZAYA, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

The festival date is still on, but now Shizuo is forcing them both to wear Yukata. 

 

The next day is a blur. He does happen to own a Yukata, actually, black and faintly patterned, and decides it looks good enough for the date. He goes to ask Namie her opinion, more intent on teasing her than anything else. 

“It’s not like it matters,” she says, looking to him with a blank look. 

“Ahh, you’re right! Shizu-chan, like anyone else, would find me irresistible no matter what.” He winks at her for good measure, waiting for the eyeroll or a huff, but she simply turns back to her work. Why is she still here, working at this hour anyway? Ahh, he’d forgotten to tell her she could go home. 

“You’re so dense,” she sighs, and it’s the last thing she says all evening. 

That’s fine. He doesn’t want to hear it anyway. 

The festival is beautiful. Strung up lights are scattered like multi-colored stars above them, lighting the way for lovers and family alike. The air smells of delicious fried foods and candy, grease sizzling and popping in the background while children rush about, giggling and gasping. Women smile at them as they pass, waving elegant fans and draped in beautiful yukata. The men look everything from properly dapper to handsomely gruff, grinning back at the woman flirtatiously. 

They meet under a blooming Sakura tree, late afternoon when everything is starting as the sun sets, casting them in dying golden rays. 

Shizuo doesn’t meet his gaze at first, looking him over thoroughly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments truly fuel me


	5. Chicken Fried Fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit of a mess tbh XD I messed up the doc somehow and I tried quickly fixing it but some parts might still be in the wrong order. :/
> 
> gOd what the FuCK was I thINKING

Izaya hadn’t felt this bad in a long, long time. Curled up on the couch, lights off and only the tv illuminating the room, he was starting to lose track of what was real and what wasn’t. His head burned like someone had shoved hot coals in his ears, past his ear drums and to his brain, where they were left to roast him from the inside out. 

And, in contrast, his body shook with tremors, freezing cold from his neck to his toes. His apartment must have been antarctica for how cold it was. Hell, he halfway expected a penguin to come try and spoon him for warmth. It probably didn’t help that he was too sick to simply get up and get a blanket. He had to settle for curling up tighter against the cold leather of his couch. 

He tried to focus on the TV instead of his hot ‘n cold torments, thinking dazedly that this type of flu must have been inspiration behind one of Katy Perry’s most notable songs. Someone, call the doctor, indeed.

‘I’m in Japan,’ he thinks, blinking slowly at the hazy swirl of color that was his television. ‘I’m in Japan, and I already don’t give a damn about the pop idols here. How do I know that?’

At least the distraction of his strange knowledge of Katy Perry helped to allow him to forget his cold, and although his body never stopped shivering, he could stretch out some now, to the relief of his aching muscles. His fingers brush the remote, and he winds up pressing it on accident. A strange, but somehow cheerful tune rings out across the room. He closes his eyes, finding the noise soothing, somehow. Familiar, though he can’t place it. He blinks, eyes only closing for a second, but when they open again, Izaya finds himself standing at a blue podium, the music ringing around him much louder than before. 

“What the fu-”

“THIS. IS. JEOPARDY!” Announces a cheerful, disembodied voice. “Please welcome today’s contestants.”

“How did I get here,” he hisses to himself, looking around the room, nearly having a heart attack when he notices the man in the next podium over. 

“An Infobroker, from Shinjuku, Japan, Izaya Orihara.” He notices backstage that the camera has cut to him, and gives a weak smirk in response. 

“A debt collector, from Ikebukuro, Japan, Shizuo Heiwajima.” Shizuo scowls at the camera, looking fully determined to win. 

“And our returning champion, a teacher from Someplace, Somewhere, Bob Manperson, whose total 2 day cash winnings total $26,705 dollars!” Izaya peers around Shizuo to glance at the man, finding some balding old white guy there, wearing a forced, toothy smile. 

“And here is the host of Jeopardy, Aleeeex Trebek!”

“Thank you.” Says the man, Alex, stepping out with a serious but kind face. He nods at the camera, as Shizuo and Bob clap. “Hello everyone, welcome to another exciting game on Jeopardy. We’re sure to have a great game, so good luck to you, Izaya, Shizuo, and Bob. I’m speaking in bold, because it gets too confusing to tell who’s speaking sometimes.”

“Wait,” Izaya protests, in English, though no one seems to pay attention. “I’m fairly certain Shizu-chan can’t even speak English, let alone read it or know any American trivia. Ne, isn’t this unfair? Funny, I’ll admit, but unfair.”

“Hush up, Flea,” Shizuo snaps, also in perfect English. Izaya’s head whips around, staring at the debt collector like he’s grown a second head. “Pay attention.”

“Let’s get to it, round one, with one daily double. Here are the categories.” Alex announces.  
“To Be or Not To Be.”

“Classical Memes.”

“Yo, Homo. A category about people, real and fictional, who were likely homosexual.” 

“They Come In All Shapes and Sizes.”

“Shaken, not Stirred. All about alcohol.”

“And finally, Where Does This Go, a category where you identify where these things go. Bob, as the returning champion, you have the board.” Alex nods at him, and they all ready their buzzers. 

“Yo, Homo, for $200,” Bob says, with a surprisingly deep voice. 

“Famous for his plays, this man supposedly wrote one hundred and twenty-six love poems to another man, though their identity is somewhat unclear.” Izaya buzzes in quickly, though neither Bob nor Shizuo’s thumbs ever even twitch.

“Who is, William Shakespeare?” Izaya asks confidently. His grin falls, however, when Alex shakes his head. 

“I’m sorry, that is incorrect.”

“Huh? But who else could-?” 

“Who is, Izaya-kun?” Shizuo asks, after buzzing in. 

“Oh haha very funny shizu-chan.”

“That is correct. You have the board, Shizuo.”

“What!?” 

“I’ll take They Come In All Shapes and Sizes for $200, Alex,” Shizuo calls. Izaya finds himself glancing at Shizuo, annoyed. The other man is staring dead ahead, focused entirely on the game, to Izaya’s disappointment. 

“This is big, red, and fairly loud.” 

Izaya buzzes in again, “What is, a firetruck?”

“I’m sorry, once again you’re wrong. Negative $400. Anyone else?” 

“A vending machine,” Shizuo answers, and $200 is added to his total.”

“That is correct. Once again, Shizuo, you have the board.” Alex confirms calmly.

“Now wait just a minute-vending machines are in no way loud! And they’re only mobile when you’re throwing them like a caveman,” Izaya snaps, but Shizuo ignores him completely. “Oi, Shizu-chan, did you hear me? Shizu-chan. Shizu-chan!” 

“I’ll take Where Does This Go, for $200,” Shizuo requests, over Izaya’s angry calls. On the screen, an erection suddenly appears, uncensored. It’s large, hard, and dripping obscenely with precum. 

“This shouldn’t be on live television,” Izaya mutters, squinting at the picture.

Shizuo buzzes in again. “Where is, Izaya’s ass?”

“Fuck you.”

“No, it is fuck you, actually, because that was correct! We also would have accepted Izaya’s mouth, Izaya’s hand, or Izaya’s jacket,” Alex agrees, adding another $200 to Shizuo’s current total. 

“My-my jacket?” He hisses, pulling his beloved coat tighter around himself with horrified grimace at a blushing Shizuo. “What the everloving hell does your disgusting dick have to do with my jacket?”

 

“You still have the board, and the lead, Shizuo.” Alex reminds them. “And for the record, I’d like to have a go at that jacket too.” Alex eyes his coat like a piece of meat, lingering on the sleeves and fur trims.

“Where Does This Go, $400.” A thick black buttplug comes into view on the screen, making Izaya choke almost violently. He starts coughing, bent over his podium, gasping for air.

“This pleasure device is made to sit firmly in it’s destined place on the body, without need to be held in place. Make sure it’s lubricated, though.” Bob buzzes in this time, barely beating Shizuo to it.

“Ass,” he says cheerfully, and Alex frowns. 

“I’m sorry, it has to be phrased in the form of a question.”

“Oh, oh right.” Bob nods, but doesn’t say anything else. 

“...”

Bzzzt! Time runs out on bob, and Izaya buzzes in this time, looking a little pale and a lot angry. 

“I’m...I’m going to take a guess here and say… my ass?” He cringes to himself, scowling when Shizuo starts to laugh beside him.

“We were looking for the anus, but we will accept that answer.” Trebek straightens out some note cards on his podium, absentmindedly. “Who knew orihara was so kinky…” he mutters, and the audience laughs. 

“Screw you guys,” Izaya seethes, hot with embarrassment and anger. 

“I’m sure you’d like to, fairy,” the old man says, and Izaya nearly chokes again. “We’ll be right back, after these messages from our sponsors.” 

Izaya doesn’t realize he’s gotten up and started walking around. After they made those vulgar remarks about his precious jacket, he’d rolled off the couch to retrieve it, putting it on and clutching it tightly. He stumbles towards the door, intent on getting away while mumbling commercial jingles under his breath. 

He honestly has no idea where he’s going, mind stuck on thinking about jeopardy and commercials as he struggles to get further away from his apartment and to safety. But where is safety, exactly?  
“The snack that smiles back,” He hums, burning with the highest fever of his life, “Until you bite it’s head off~!” 

“I wanna fuck it, obviously,” Shizuo growls back. “Keep up flea.” 

“But-but...Why!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CoMmEnTs TrUlY fUeL mE


	6. Hanakai Disease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I spell that wrong?? I just realized when I wrote this I labeled it Hanakai Disease but I've always pronounced it (in my head because I don't just go around telling people about a fictional disease) Hana-ha-ki Disease o.o eh whatever you know what I'm talking about

It wouldn’t fucking stop. 

Pale blue, crisp and healthy petals steadily becoming darker and darker with blood the longer time went on. 

“I can’t fucking do anything!” He screams at the toilet, littered with petals and stems. “He’s fucking dead- what do you want me to do!?”

Surgery isn’t an option. 

Or, at least, it isn’t for him. 

He hides it as best he can, stowing away in his apartment and taking far too many “smoke breaks” when he’s with Tom. Vorona looks at him like she knows, even though, to his knowledge, she’s never seen the petals. 

It hurts. 

He thought of everyone, when the petals started. It was a rainy night, and he’d been home, washing his wounds in the shower. It was his night of victory- he’d killed the flea once and for all. It was done. 

He was done. 

It had only been the one, that night. Unlike the rest that came after, it was blood red and brittle, like a warning of what was to come. He’d thought it was just blood as it washed down the drain and didn’t think anything of it until weeks later, when the pain in his chest started, and he coughed up his first flower. 

He knew what it was then. Of course he didn’t suspect the cause. He looked at Vorona with new eyes, but the petals didn’t slow, and she didn’t make him happy. He considered Tom, next, but the man was more like a brother than a lover. Celty, like a sister. Shinra, just a weirdo. 

On and on he searched for the answer to his flowers- even considering Simon for a few horrifying moments- but none came until he found the knife. 

Folded up and abandoned in his desk drawer, he’d only taken it home because he hadn’t realised it had been lodged in his back. And he hadn’t thrown it away because he planned to throw it right back at that smug, shitty face. 

Looks like that’ll never happen. 

Hunched over his toilet, retching up flower upon flower stained with crimson droplets, Shizuo doesn’t understand why it has to be like this. Why him? Why after he’s already gone, and there’s no hope to be cured? Why the FUCK-

...why?

He wipes his mouth when he’s done, grabbing his jacket and heading outside for fresh air. Wind howls through the streets, pelting rain like the city is crying and screaming in it’s grief. Nothing has been the same since Izaya died.

...no. Since Izaya was murdered. 

He looks to his hands and imagines the blood that is surely on them- but that’s not right. No, there was never any blood. Shizuo had crushed his windpipe, strangled him long after Izaya stopped struggling. 

He’s soaked before he’s even a block away from his apartment, but he doesn’t feel the cold. The burning in his chest won’t allow him to feel anything but pain. 

Tires squeal, then, and Shizuo’s head jerks up in time to see a stupid teenager narrowly avoid being hit by a car. He jerks onto the sidewalk and out of the road in time, nearly running into Shizuo. 

“Watch where you’re fucking going,” he growls, and the kid turns to him with fire in his eyes. 

“You’re the one standing still like a moron,” the kid bites out. He’s soaked down to his school uniform, eyes wild and black hair pasted against his forehead from the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments truly fuel me


	7. A Taste Of Your Own Medicine Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one I had big big plans for (sighs)

Izaya had been eerily quiet the whole morning. When he’d first encountered Shizuo in the streets, eyes dull and subdued, he hadn’t said a word. He’d simply turned around and ran, leaving Shizuo to snarl and give chase despite the fact that he’d been, for once, completely unprovoked. 

It was instinct, a primal urge ingrained into him like a dog with a car, to chase the flea. He couldn’t help it. As soon as the other man turned his back to flee, he had to follow, pounding through the streets of Ikebukuro with street signs and vending machines flying. 

He doesn’t expect to land a hit. 

To be fair, it’s a very, very minor hit. The vending machine he’d thrown just manages to clip Izaya’s leg, sending the informant sprawling to the ground with a groan and a gash. It was the first sound he’d made all morning, low and annoyed as blood trails down the exposed tear in his pants.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come to Ikebukuro?!” Shizuo snarls, caught between the thrill of his impending victory and agitation at Izaya’s strange behavior. He hasn’t seen Izaya in awhile, therefore he hasn’t had too many opportunities to really get his excess rage out. 

“Like that’s ever stopped me,” Izaya mutters, no hint of joy or excitement in his voice, for once. He braces his hands against the ground and pushes himself up and over, rolling to sit up and inspect his calf. He ignores Shizuo as he does this, making no move to continue this chase, leaving himself open seemingly without care.

“I’m gonna fuckin kill you!” If Shizuo takes a few extra seconds yanking up that street sign, giving Izaya something of a head start, well, it’s his business and his alone. “Get outta Ikebukuro!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Izaya sighs, scowling at his leg and doing nothing to stop the blood. He doesn’t get up, either, just stays crouched and quiet.

“I’m serious, I’ll fucking beat you to death-... what are you doing?” Shizuo scowls as Izaya simply flops back, laying down in the middle of the deserted street, bringing his hands behind his head in an overly relaxed way. 

“I don’t feel like getting up.”

“You’re gonna get yourself fucking killed.” Shizuo steps forward cautiously from his position on the sidewalk, scowling still. “Get the fuck up, you’re gonna get run over.”

“Better a car than you,” Is Izaya’s apathetic response. The louse actually rolls over, curling on his side in the middle of the street with his back to Shizuo. 

A car honks a ways down the road, loud and blaring, and it startles Shizuo into moving when Izaya doesn’t. He snatches the man up by the hood of his jacket, hauling him back towards the sidewalk. 

“Stupid!” He hisses, eyeing the road where Izaya had been laying as the car drives right over where Izaya’s head was. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

Izaya doesn’t answer, going completely limp. Shizuo winds up losing his grip on Izaya’s hood, and starts to think the informant has passed out, until Izaya simply crouches there, head bowed and arms supported over his knees. 

“Oi…” he sighs, crouching next to Izaya, ducking his head to try and see the informants eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“‘M tired,” Izaya says, falling against Shizuo, He only realises now, this close, that Izaya is panting, chest straining as he struggles to catch his breath. They hadn’t been running long, maybe ten minutes at the most, which was nothing for them-especially Izaya. 

“Are you sick?” He demands, grudgingly allowing Izaya to lean against him. He doesn’t feel hot, forehead cool and cheeks not flushed with fever. There are no signs of sickness at all, in fact, which is even worse. 

“C’mon,” he sighs, steadying Izaya and helping him stand. “Let’s take you to Shinra.”

“I don’t want to see him.” Izaya pushes back against him, moving in close to lean against Shizuo once again. He buries his face in Shizuo’s shoulder, fingers digging into the fabric of his vest and holding tight.

“I know he’s annoying but, for some reason, he’s your friend. And he’s going to help you so… get the fuck off already.” He glances down at the top of Izaya’s head, having to crane his neck awkwardly to do so, considering Izaya is nearly the same height as he is. 

Izaya quickly shakes his head, rubbing his face against Shizuo as he does so, clinging to him like a sad child. Shizuo growls, fingers itching to punch the idiot for daring to cling to him like this. He only doesn’t because there has to be something seriously wrong with Izaya to act like this. 

“Why not? You like Shinra,” He tries, pushing at Izaya’s shoulders with as little strength as possible, even though he’d love to just crush him and be done with it. 

“He hates me,” Izaya mumbles, sounding strained and sorrowful. “He’s trying to get rid of me.”

“Hah? He’s your friend, isn’t he?” Izaya shakes his head again, finally pulling away from Shizuo. He takes a few wobbly steps back, head down and bangs hiding his eyes. 

“...I think I should just go home and rest.” He smiles as he says this, but it’s clearly fragile and strained. “I’m just a little under the weather. Thanks for not murdering me, Shizu…” He doesn’t even add the “-chan,” sounding too exhausted to even do that. 

“Bullshit.” Shizuo grabs his arm, perhaps a little too hard by the way Izaya winces, and starts dragging him bodily towards Shinra’s. “You’re seeing him, even if it’s as a fucking corpse, you got that?”

“Why do you even care?” Izaya mutters, more sad than angry or mocking. 

Shizuo doesn’t have an answer. 

 

“You really don’t need to stick around,” Shinra chirps, as he looks Izaya over. “He’s completely fine.” The fur-clad megalomaniac allows this, head down and lacking all of his usual cheerful charm. 

“He doesn’t look fine,” Shizuo mutters, leaning back against the far wall with his arms crossed. “He’s not acting right, either. I told you he just sat down in the middle of the street, right?” 

Shizuo catches Shinra smiling, then, something dark and pleased, and it sends a chill through him. It’s gone in the next second, though, replaced by his usual carefree grin. Izaya looks back to Izaya, staring down at the floor with slumped shoulders and hardly moving. 

“Right...I think I know what’s wrong.” Shinra ducks down to look at Izaya, voice friendly and unthreatening. Izaya flinches nonetheless. “Izaya, did you take your pill today?”

“No.”

“Well, there you go!” Shinra grins, heading to his medicine cabinet to pull out an orange bottle filled with big yellow pills. “He just needs to take his medicine.” 

“What’s it for?” Shizuo asks, casting another weary eye on his enemy. Izaya’s gripping the table now, knuckles white with strain and looking terribly tense all over. 

“Can’t tell you. Doctor patient confidentiality and all that,” Shinra laughs, waving his hand. “You can go now, he’ll be fine again soon.”

“It’s nice of you to be so attentive of him,” Shizuo remarks, something cold and frantic curling in the pit of his stomach. “I know you’ve been having a hard time, since Celty left.”

Shinra freezes, back to Shizuo and spine straightening. The pills rattle, his hand shaking as he grips the bottle in his hand tightly, like he’s afraid he’ll drop it. Izaya flinches at the small sound, or perhaps at whatever face Shinra is making, curling in on himself. It’s wrong, so wrong, to see the proud and strong informant cower like a beaten dog. 

“Aha...haha!” Shinra whips around suddenly, smiling all over his face and spreading his arms wide. “Wow, even after a whole year, it’s still hard to hear it outloud.” He laughs again, pained.

“Yeah..” Shizuo agrees, watching Shinra’s face warily. 

“Izaya-kun and I have always had a bond,” Shinra says, then, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder. “Helping him is a good distraction, you know?” He looks sad, eyes wide and a little wet behind his glasses. He’s clearly still grieving for his headless love. Shizuo feels guilty all over again. How could he suspect Shinra of something so awful! 

“...I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, and Shinra shakes his head. 

“Don’t worry about it, Heiwajima-kun. And you can leave now, I promise Izaya-kun will be back to normal in a few hours!” He opens the bottle, handing a yellow pill and a cup of water to a very reluctant Izaya.

“Alright,” Shizuo agrees, nodding at Shinra as a goodbye. “Oi, flea, don’t forget to take your pills again. It’s a pain in the ass to deal with, got it?”

Izaya doesn’t respond, just sets the half empty water glass down and lays back on the exam table slowly. He rolls his eyes and leaves them to it, heading out of Shinra’s living room and to the front door. He doesn’t look back.

 

It’s not long after he’d settled into bed, restlessly going over the days events in his mind, that he hears a weak knock at his door. He plans to ignore it, shoving a pillow over his head to drown it out, but it only gets harsher and louder till he’s throwing off the covers and stomping down the hall to the front door. 

“What the hell do you want?” He throws open the door with a snarl. “Do you know how late it is-Izaya-kun?” Izaya pushes past him weakly, stumbling into Shizuo’s apartment and flopping heavily onto the couch. He reeks of vomit, head rolling to stare at Shizuo with tired eyes. 

“Hey. Close the door, you’re letting the heat out,” Izaya sighs, closing his eyes and relaxing on Shizuo’s sofa. Shizuo abandons the open door, stomping towards the pest angrily. 

“It’s the middle of June, how can you be cold? Nevermind, just-get out of my apartment,” he snarls, fisting the fabric of Izaya’s jacket in his hands and hauling him up. Izaya groans, holding onto Shizuo’s wrist as his head flops back lamely. 

“Don’t do that,” Izaya groans, hanging mostly limp in his grasp. “I’m dizzy…”

“Then get out!” Shizuo shouts, twisting towards the door so he can throw the pest out himself. Izaya, however, drags his heels as much as he can. 

“This is important,” Izaya seethes, starting to shake with the effort of staying where he is. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to get sick again,” he warns. Shizuo growls, shoving him back down against the couch and going over to slam the door closed, finally. Izaya looks like he’s fighting not to lose his dinner.

“Dammit…. Okay, fine. Tell me what’s so important, then get out.” 

“Fine.” Izaya smirks up at him, the moonlight steaming from the windows casting his face in sinister a half shadow. “But bear with me. I’m still having trouble thinking properly.”

“What do you mean?” He crosses his arms, glaring down at the pest. 

“Those pills Kishitani gave me…” Izaya says slowly. “They aren’t intended to help me. They just keep me from thinking properly.” 

“...lots of people say that.” Shizuo shakes his head, more annoyed than ever. “You take pills for a reason, Izaya-kun. Shinra is trying to help you, you have to trust him.”

“He’s not!” Izaya stands up, wobbling at little, eyes fierce. “He’s not helping me. Those pills- they make me… lose time.” He frowns, looking at his shoes in concentration. “They make me… they make me feel like I’m not here.”

“...you’re crazy.” Shizuo shakes his head again, dragging a hand through his hair. “Go home, Izaya-kun. You’ll feel better once the drugs kick in.”

“Weren’t you listening to me? Those pills aren’t helping.” Izaya smiles patronizingly, like Shizuo is a very stupid animal, with no hope of being trained. “Besides,” he waves a casual hand, “they won’t be kicking in. If anything, they’ll be wearing off soon.”

That grabs his attention with mild alarm. He glares at his enemy. “Why? What did you do?”

“What else? Puked them up.” Izaya shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets with a bright grin. 

“You… dammit Izaya!” He grabs the other man by the back of his coat, slipping on his shoes. 

“Hey-!”

“Shinra is the only person who cares enough to even want to help you,” Shizuo snarls, throwing open the door. “Why are you fighting it?” Izaya struggles against his grip, trying and failing to shrug out of his coat when Shizuo just switches to drag him down the street by his arm, forcefully pulling the informant along. 

“Where are you taking me?” Izaya hisses, jerking and pulling against Shizuo’s grasp with no luck. “Let go, Shizu-chan!” Thankfully there aren’t many people out in the streets at 3am to see this, even in a city as big as Ikebukuro. 

“Back to the only person who gives a shit about your smarmy little ass!” He snaps back, feeling all too like a mother dealing with her unruly child. 

“Wait,” Izaya gasps, jerking particularly hard, hard enough to actually halt Shizuo briefly. “Wait. Please.”

“...dammit,” he sighs, after a moment. “What is it?” He turns back to Izaya, surprised to find the other man looking at him with a startlingly serious expression. 

“I came to you because you’re the only one who’d ever care.”

“I don’t care about you.”

“No,” Izaya takes a step closer, looking right into his eyes, “but you care about morals, and justice. You care when someone is doing another wrong.” He smirks, slightly, just enough to bright weight to his words. “You care when something clearly isn’t right.”

They stand there, staring at each other in the dead of night. Shizuo still has a firm grip on Izaya’s arm, but Izaya isn’t fighting to pull away anymore. He’s staring up at Shizuo calmly, waiting for him to make his decision. 

“Not when it concerns you,” he mutters, breaking the tense silence. Izaya’s face hardens, and Shizuo has to look away. He starts pulling Izaya towards Shinra’s again. 

“And here I thought I was the coward,” Izaya laughs, and it rings out painfully in the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments Truly Fuel me


	8. A Taste Of Your Own Medicine- most of chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So most of the second chapter is done, I think?? That's good..I guess?

He hasn’t seen Izaya in weeks. He’s sure, of course, that the other is just winding him up. That he’s is just spiteful that Shizuo didn’t fall for his little trap. Maybe his pride is injured; after all, he did ask his worst enemy for help…

Nah. It was just a trick, for sure. Shizuo wasn’t stupid. 

It was the middle of week four that Izaya apparently decided to make himself known again. Not physically, of course not, but through a gang set upon him for his own sick amusement. Once he’s done beating the idiots to a pulp, he storms over to Shinjuku, kicking down Izaya’s door with teeth bared in some fucked up version of a grin. 

“I-zaaaa-yaaaaa-kuuuun!” He growls, stepping into the apartment. His eyes immediately look to the informants desk, where Izaya almost always is, but finds it empty. He checks the couch next, then the kitchen, annoyed with both Izaya’s lack of appearance and his apparent knowledge of the pests home. 

“Shit,” he growls, glancing around furtively. “You’d better be home, flea…”

Shizuo looks up, finding Shinra staring down at him curiously at the top of the stairs leading to what anther floor where he assumes, among other rooms, is Izaya’s bedroom.

“You can’t!” He protests, as Shizuo ignores him and heads up the stairs anyway. “He’s sick, you see, so today’s not really the best day…” Shizuo pushes past the rambling doctor, going through the first open door he sees and finds it to be Izaya’s bedroom. 

He doesn’t see the other man, at first, until he looks closer at the bed and realizes Izaya is curled up ontom of the covers. He’s in all back, fuckin Johnny Cash wannabe, curled with his back to Shizuo so nearly all of his pale skin is hidden, dark clothes and hair blending in well with his dark comforter and sheets. 

“Oi, flea,” he calls, striding in. “I’m here to pay you back for that gang you sent, hope you’re ready.”

Izaya doesn’t so much as twitch. 

“Fleeaaa,” he calls, kicking the bed hard enough that it shakes. “Don’t piss me off anymore than you already have, okay? Just let me kill you a little.”

Nothing. 

Ah, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why him? Why does the world torment him with these things. 

“Hey, crazy.” He nudges Izaya a little with his elbow, glaring at the lack of response. “I’m gonna move you. I wanna test somethin’...”

He grabs hold of him under his armpits, hauling the half dead informant to the bathroom. He shoves Izaya’s face over the toilet bowl, holds his jaw open in one hand, and uses the other to plunge his fingers down Izaya’s throat as deep as he can get the in one fast thrust. 

He’s lucky that he’s fast enough to remove said fingers before Izaya’s eyes bug and he folds in on himself violently, retching loudly into the porcelain bowl. Sure enough, floating in the vomit, is a big yellow pill, slightly dissolved. Izaya coughs, shaking slightly as he leans over the bowl. Shizuo lets him go watching the other man slump over the bowl, groaning. 

“Dammit,” he sighs as he stands, frowning. “Oi, flea, get up, flush the toilet, brush your teeth like you know how to take care of yourself,” he snaps, when Izaya doesn’t move. 

But the other doesn’t move at all; in fact he’s so still, Shizuo isn’t even sure Izaya is conscious. Or breathing. Maybe the world finally took pity on him and he’s dead?

“Oi,” he pokes Izaya with his foot, feeling guilty when he realizes he still has his shoes on. Whoops. “You alive?”

“Hmmgn…” Is Izaya’s response. 

“You have to make everything difficult, don’t you?” He sighs, hauling Izaya back up. He flushes the toilet and drags Izaya over to the sink. He’s surprised when Izaya’s eyes blink open, and catches alarm in his gaze when he sees Shizuo behind him in the mirror before it morphs into a lazy smirk. 

“Shizu… what brings you..?” He wheezes, head lolling back to look up at Shizuo directly. He’s flushed, eyes unfocused and panting like he’s been running for days. 

“Shit… okay,” Shizuo sighs, grabbing the mouthwash. He braces an arm around Izaya to keep him up while he unscrews the cap and shoves the bottle to Izaya’s lips. “Don’t swallow.”

“Haha… that’s the opposite of what most men want me to do-Ugh.” Izaya chokes as Shizuo shoves the bottle to his lips, but gets a decent amount in his mouth without swallowing. Once he’s closed his mouth Shizuo sets the bottle down. He supports Izaya under hinder his armpits with his biceps, placing his hands on the informants cheek.

Then, he shakes Izaya’s head furiously to and fro, forcefully swishing the liquid around in his mouth. 

“Ugh-gah!” Izaya lurches over the sink to spit the mouthwash out, eyes a little brighter and more focused as he glares at Shizuo while he coughs and spits the rest out. 

“Can you walk?” Shizuo lets him go before he gets an answer, and Izaya slumps but stays on his feet. He straightens up with a nod, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and still glaring, But he looks better, less like a zombie. 

“Mm… not really,” Izaya says, with a wiry grin. “But that’s good.”

“What? Why” Shizuo frowns, taking a step back. “I’m not carrying you, if that’s what you’re expecting.”

“Haha!” His shoulder shake with his mirth, and Shizuo wants to slam his head against the sink. “As if I’d want to be carried by someone with super strength and zero self control.”

“Shut up!” Shizuo grits his teeth, furious. “I can’t help that, so shut up before I bash your head in!”

“Yes, I saw you eyeing the sink.” Izaya smirks as him, lazy and relaxed. “Go ahead. Just be careful not to do any real damage.”

...what?

“Hah? You askin’ me to hurt you?” It sounds too good to be true, honestly. He cracks his knuckles eagerly, watching that smirk go from cocky to wary.

“Yes, actually. Ah, ah! Wait just a moment there, beast.” Izaya slumps against the door, closing his eyes like he’s preparing himself for something. “Before that. Go grab my phone and be careful to break it. We need it for the plan.”

“...the plan. Right.” Shizuo goes as told, not bothering to question Izaya’s intentions. He gets to beat him up finally, something he’s only dreamed of since high school. 

Once he’s got Izaya’s phone, setting it on the floor near his feet, he thinks back to all the shitty things the flea had done to him. Framing him, setting gangs on him, spreading rumors- the list went on. But the anger is there at the first nasty memory, zipping through his body feriouscily, demanding him to move, to crush the flea who won’t run this time. 

Izaya apparently doesn’t notice his fury as Shizuo steps closer, eyes still closed and relaxed against the door. “Now, like I said, do try to be careful, because I’ll need to-ah, shit-!” 

He grabs Izaya by the hair, bashing his head once, twice against the sink. Blood smears on the second strike, then more against faucet when his forehead comes into contact with the metal. The porcelain cracks but otherwise doesn’t break, though it could if Shizuo really let go. He smashes Izaya’s face once more against metal and porcelain, somewhat satisfied by the pained groan it earns him. 

It’s not enough. 

It’s not nearly enough, he realizes, letting go of his hair and stepping back. Izaya slumps to the floor, conscious but apparently in too much pain to stand. He’s weakly clutching his face, making a noise between a pained whimper and an angry growl. It sounds nasally, and Shizuo wonders if he’s broken his nose. 

Good. That’s good. He hopes he’s broken Izaya’s entire face, hopes he’ll be ugly and scarred from this, hopes he’ll be in agony for months. But still it isn’t enough. It isn’t enough that Izaya has tormented his entire life for so long and all Shizuo gets is to smack him around a little. He needs to pay for his crimes, needs to feel fucking sorry for all the shit he’s put Shizuo through! If he could just get his hands around that slim neck

With a gasp he jerks back, quickly lowering his hands from where they’d been reaching towards Izaya, still crouched on the floor with his back to him. Shit. That was almost murder, and not that Izaya wouldn’t deserve it...but that’s not what they’re here for. 

“Okay,” he mutters, clenching his fists and desperately stamping down on the lingering fury. “What now?” 

“...now… I gotta…” He groans, holding his head tighter and trembling faintly. “I just… turn the light off.”

“What?” 

Izaya hisses. “Turn the light off!”

“Fuck, okay okay,” he growls. He flips the switch hard enough to nearly break it, and Izaya gives a small sigh of relief.   
He storms down to the living room and calls a repair company, chewing the inside of his cheek as he waits for someone to pick up. “Hello, how may I assist you today?” A cheery woman answers, and he relaxes some. 

“Hi, uh, I need a door fixed. Or replaced.”

“Alright…” he hears tapping on a keyboard, faintly. “Could you describe the current condition of the previous door, please?”

“It’s on the floor.”

“Oh my! There must be a funny story there, huh?” She laughs. 

“Not really.”

They say silent for a few moments, brewing in the awkward air. “

Oh, okay… um, what state are the hinges in? Is the door fully intact?” He glances at the door, paint splintered in the middle and silver hinges busted.

“...I think I just need a new door entirely.” 

“Alright.” He hears more fast typing, in the following pause. “I’m sending someone to come inspect the damage and they can help you choose a new door. Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” He lists the address and ends the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments truly fuel me

**Author's Note:**

> Comments truly fuel me <3


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